


Over Time

by kirasha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: smutty_claus, F/M, Fake Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-11
Updated: 2006-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1314307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirasha/pseuds/kirasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kingsley Shacklebolt has always thought Lupin was a fool who didn't know what he had in Tonks. Now that Lupin's out of the picture, can Kingsley overcome his own boundaries to convince a Tonks still in mourning to take another chance at life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arsenicjade](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=arsenicjade).



> For [arsenicjade](http://arsenicjade.livejournal.com/)
> 
> written for [smutty_claus](http://smutty-claus.livejournal.com)

"Working late again?"  
  
The light rap upon her office door, followed by Shacklebolt's deep, smooth voice brought Tonks' head up and into the top of the desk drawer in which she'd been poking around looking for the blasted Snape file. Rubbing the back of her head as she emerged, she cast the older Auror a wry grin and straightened her chocolate brown ponytail with an impatient tweak.  
  
"No sleep for the wicked, right? So why should those who hunt them get any?"  
  
"This will make the fifth night this week you've put in an extra half a day's work. You need to get some rest, BonBon."  
  
Tonks' made a face at the old nickname. Every time he called her that, all she could see was that first interview for acceptance into the Auror's training program. Her mother had begged her for the thousandth time to color her hair something _normal_ for the interview. "No self-respecting Auror sneaks around on assignment with strawberry pink hair, Nymphadora," her mother had argued. And, of course, she'd had to use Tonks' given name, which only served to get her daughter's back up and ensure her hair would remain an even brighter shade of pink than originally intended.  
  
Of course she _would_ then trip on her way in the room at the very start of the interview, prompting the tall bald auror seated in the front to lean over to his neighbor and whisper loudly, "Who's the clumsy little BonBon."  
  
Somehow, she'd managed to earn the older man's respect as a co-worker and occasional partner over the years. Thank goodness! But, she still felt like that gangly little greenhorn whenever he used the name.  
  
It was _almost_ as bad as being called _Nymphadora_.  
  
At least he didn't try to call her 'Dora like…well, someone else.  
  
"I just want to finish cross-checking some facts in the Snape file. I'm sure there's a pattern to his movements, if I just look hard enough…" Tonks bit her lip and looked down at her hands. She knew what she sounded like. By rights, she shouldn't have been put on the case at war's end. She was too personally involved. But, only Shacklebolt had known that.  
  
"I see." The note of concern in Shacklebolt's voice made her wince, even as it's sudden proximity nearly had her jumping out of her seat in surprise. She hadn't noticed at what point he'd taken a seat on the corner of her desk. Just as she hadn't noticed, until a few weeks ago, how much he'd been looking in on her after work. "Finding Snape isn't going to bring Lupin back, Tonks. It's time you realized that."  
  
"I know that. I just--"  
  
"Go home." Large, strong hands on her shoulders forced her to meet his dark gaze. "Get some rest. And forget about finding Snape for an evening before I’m forced to pull you from the case."  
  
"Yes, sir." She knew the sullen mumble of her response wouldn't comfort him, but that was as good as he was going to get.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Kingsley let himself into his flat later that night with a frustrated sigh. Checking the wards and locks with a casualness which bespoke of the second nature of the gesture, he dropped his robes across the sofa and moved to pour himself a glass of his favorite Rioja. The only light inside the bedsit was that of the low fire in the hearth, which cast dark shadows upon the wall behind him.  
  
This hadn't been the first such discussion he'd had with Tonks in the year since the war had ended. It was no secret to him she worked so furiously on this case to hide the grief she still felt over Lupin's loss in the final battle. Kingsley had hoped, as time went on, she'd have realized the two of them never had much of a relationship to begin with. Lupin had been bullied into the charade, unable to reveal the real reasons for his reluctance.  
  
So far as Kingsley knew, he was still the only one who knew the truth now. Only he knew the body interred in the grave next to Lily and James Potter was not that of their school days friend, but a decoy, cleverly trapped in the influence of polyjuice by the combined efforts of Remus Lupin and Severus Snape. Much to his surprise, Snape had turned out to be on their side after all. Though Kingsley had not been a part of the scheme initially, he was brought into the confidences of Lupin and Aberforth Dumbledore a few weeks after the death of Hogwarts' Headmaster at Snape's hand. They had enough evidence to prove to Kingsley, who had been given the task of apprehending Snape, that the man had been acting under Dumbledore's instructions -- most unwillingly, as well.  
  
But, much of that evidence, thought safer kept at Hogwarts than Order Headquarters, had been destroyed during the last battle.  
  
How was Kingsley to have known Lupin and Snape had been planning for such an eventuality? He might have tried to stop them, but by the time Lupin's message had come that he was indeed alive and the two of them had no plans to return to Britain, it had been too late and one Nymphadora Tonks was the one to pay the price for all their subterfuge.  
  
Determined to the last, the young woman with hair the color of Strawberry Bonbons had insisted she be allowed to work on the case, not knowing Kingsley never intended for it to be solved.  
  
Tossing back the last of his wine, he cursed himself for a fool.  
  
There should have been no doubt she would still mourn the loss of the man she loved. By his own willing compliance with the subterfuge, he had ensured she was never going to realize that, in the end, Lupin had been a fool who couldn't see what he had.  
  
Not that Kingsley had any right to be thinking such things. He was her superior and several years her senior above even the number of years Lupin had had on her. Any sort of feeling between them needed to stay right where it was -- at the office.  
  
So, why could he not seem to stop the thoughts of her that seemed to fill his solitary hours in the still of the night? The endearingly clumsy little trainee had grown into a vibrant, dedicated woman and somewhere along the way, Kingsley had found himself falling hard.  
  
He wasn't sure when it had happened, exactly, when he had taken a moment to really see Tonks the woman beneath the tough Auror's exterior. It had happened gradually, he supposed, during the time they worked together as Aurors, during the war, working for the Order. But, he could remember the moment he realized he was lost.  
  
It had been several months before the war ended. They were both working late. It was near Christmas, he could recall, because there had been sad attempts at festive decorations along the walls of the Auror Offices. Some one had left a bottle champagne after an earlier attempt at levity and celebration, and they had decided it would be a shame to see it go to waste, especially as they weren't likely to get any more work done that night anyway.  
  
After their second glass, the subject of future plans had come around. What did they plan to do after the war was over? Were they going to stick with their jobs, or find something less dangerous, growing too tired of the fight? While Tonks had talked on about maybe convincing Lupin to finally settle down, get married, Kingsley, who already knew the werewolf planned to make a life with the renegade Potions Master at war's end, had been struck forcefully by the thought Lupin didn't deserve this lovely creature.  
  
Sitting there amidst the piles of paperwork and half-hearted holiday greetings, listening to her talk of a life with another man, Kingsley had realized suddenly that _he_ wanted to be the one allowed to love her as she should be loved.  
  
Now, his own idiocy seemed to have assured she would never forget the man who had lied to her and used her as a cover for more than a year.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Working late again, Tonks?"  
  
Once more, Shacklebolt's entrance to her office caught her by surprise and she came up out of where she'd been digging for her foe-glass, in the bottom of the cupboard, rubbing the back of her head. She really shouldn't be surprised each time. It was becoming almost a nightly routine for the older wizard to check up on her before leaving the office. In a way, it was almost sweet.  
  
"Just getting some things together for recon tomorrow and then I'm heading home." Grinning up at him from beneath bangs close enough to Weasley red one might almost mistake her for another sister, she solemnly sketched an X over her heart. "I promise."  
  
"Not just saying that to make an old man stop worrying, hm?"  
  
There was something dark and strangely intense behind the dark eyes looking down her, something humor-laced concern didn't quite explain and her mind didn't quite want to grasp, though it made her catch her breath in a way nothing had for a very long time.  
  
"Show me an old man," she teased, trying to regain her composure, "and I'll tell him he can stop worrying."  
  
"Deal." Rich, warm chuckles washed over her as he began to edge his way out of the room, blanketing her in familiar camaraderie as well as the same strange new sense of breathlessness. "Well, good night then. See you when you get back from recon tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah, see ya."  
  
Once Shacklebolt had left, it took only a few more minutes before she was able to find the foe-glass, gather the rest of her things, lock up, and be on her way home.  
  
Her own flat wasn't too far from the Ministry. It was too large for her. She'd taken it in the hopes Remus would be sharing it with her once the war was over. Then, the war had ended and taken him with it. Still, she'd hung on to the flat as some sort of vestige of a dream now dead. Her mother called it morbid. Her father said it was good sense staying in a location so convenient to work.  
  
Deciding to walk the short distance home, Tonks now wondered if it was time to give the place up. It had been a year. As Shacklebolt said, even if they apprehended Snape, it wasn't going to bring Remus back. However much she told herself she wanted to see the bastard who had cast the curse that ended Remus' life dead, Snape's execution now seemed a hollow sort of goal in light of all the plans she'd had for her and Remus and the family she'd imagined for them.  
  
But, Remus was dead. That family wasn't ever going to exist.  
  
It seemed almost like a betrayal to think it.  
  
Or, rather, it should have.  
  
It had been months since thinking of him had truly stung. She'd put in all the hours looking for his killer, said all the things one expects of a grieving lover. But, the truth was, she'd stopped achingly so fiercely what seemed like ages ago. She'd told herself it was too soon. If she'd truly loved him, she couldn't get over him so quickly.  
  
In the darkest part of the night, she finally had to admit that maybe, just maybe, she hadn't had the faerietale she thought she had.  
  
Drawing her cloak around her against a sudden gust of wind, Tonks ran up the steps of the flatblock -- catching her heel on the last step and having to grab the rail for balance, of course -- and on to the door of her first floor flat.  
  
It wasn't that she hadn't loved him, she thought later while she was heating up some soup for supper. But, in her heart of hearts, she'd always known she'd had to practically force Remus Lupin into a relationship. She'd hit him when he was weakest and he was too kind to break her heart later.  
  
Honestly, had Remus survived, they probably would not have lasted much longer, though she was loathe to admit it. She'd told herself it was the war that made him unhappy. But, deep down, when he'd look at her with such wistfulness in his eyes after yet another failed attempt on her part to take their relationship to another level physically, she'd known it wasn't just the war.  
  
Taking her mug of soup and a sheaf of paperwork profiling the witch she was supposed to be tailing the next morning, she managed to settle on the floor in front of her fire with only a minimal amount of soup leaving the mug in favor of her nice clean carpet. She read in silence for quite a while, focusing on her assignment and not wearing her dinner. This wasn't the Snape case. Ever since Shacklebolt had threatened to remove her from that case, she'd made a concerted effort to tame down the obsessive determination with which she'd pursued her former professor.  
  
She wasn't really sure why. It was just that something had clicked then and she'd realized he was right. She needed to move on. Soon enough, she'd even started regaining control over her magic again, as today's titian bob proved.  
  
Besides, she liked working with Shacklebolt and if she were removed from the case, they'd no longer be partners -- a fact she found strangely disturbing.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Once more, Kingsley found himself alone in his bedsit with only a glass of wine and his own lusty thoughts for company. It had been bad enough when the object of his affections was a hurting young woman who needed the support and comfort of a good friend and colleague. Now that young woman was starting to act more like her own perky self and it was reminding Kingsley of all the various ways to share love with another person… _all_ the various ways. Tonks was a lovely young woman by nature, but when she used her powers to add just a little _something_ wild and sexy, it nearly drove him mad having to keep his distance.  
  
Today, he'd almost wondered if she as feeling some of the old pangs. They were getting fewer and fewer as the weeks dragged on and more of the vivacious Tonks he'd first met came out. But, when he'd walked into her office that morning to give her the latest report on the recent Diagon Alley vandalisms, her long chestnut curls and conservative cream-colored pantsuit caught him by surprise. After months of redheads and blondes sitting behind that desk, -- though not yet the vibrant pink he missed so damned much -- the return to her natural brunette caused a moment of worry. Only a moment. Then she leaned across the desk to take the file and he realized there was nothing underneath the basic three-button blazer except two pert little breasts practically taunting him at that angle. A rose and thorns in an almost tribal motif adorned the left one at just the right location one had to be nearly staring directly down her jacket front, as he was now, in order to see it.  
  
It would seem the flirty-Tonks he remembered was back.  
  
And he was still her supervisor.  
  
"Bloody marvelous," he muttered to the empty room, setting aside the half-empty goblet of wine. The drink was able to relax him less and less as the days went by and he found himself brooding more and more by the fire. What he needed was to feel the soft, warm curves of a woman's body beneath him to take some of the edge off his desire. It had been too long since he'd had a woman to share his bed with.  
  
Unfortunately, his heart seemed to be over-ruling his body and refused to consider even looking at anyone but the one he truly wanted.  
  
It would appear, however, that for the moment, at least, it was to be another cold shower and colder comfort.  
  
\---  
  
Merlin, it felt good to get out of those heels after a day at work. There were days Tonks almost wished the war wasn't over or that a few more hands-on cases would come her way, just for the excuse of wearing comfortable shoes to the office. Honestly, why the Ministry thought heels more appropriate footwear for women, even the female Aurors, she'd never understand. Guess that's what doing her job well enough to get a promotion got her -- a desk job with dress code.  
  
Still, the dress code did have it's advantages.  
  
Who would have thought Kingsley Shacklebolt could turn such a nice shade of pink after just a short, barely anything, flash of cleavage in his general direction? It did wonderful things for a girl's ego, really. But then, Shacklebolt had been doing wonderful things for her ego for a long time now.  
  
She just hadn't been ready to appreciate it until recently.  
  
Sighing softly as the rest of her clothing joined the heels in a puddle on the floor, she padded softly into the bath and set the tub to filling. Turning to examine herself in the mirror, she frowned thoughtfully and faded the rose tattoo she'd donned for the day. The long curls, she kept, as they were, surprisingly, her own natural hair.  
  
It had started with goodnight, she thought, her mind going back in order to pinpoint exactly when things had changed with Shacklebolt. It had been the nightly check-ins that first touched her. Ever since training, the older man had taken to being something of a protective influence over her. She knew he'd thought she was making a mistake remaining involved with Remus. But to his credit, he was never anything less than supportive of her after Remus' death.  
  
Though she hadn't shown it, she appreciated that he cared enough to check on her constantly. There had been times she'd felt like she was drowning. Then, in came Shacklebolt for his nightly check on her and somehow, she felt warmer for the walk home. Just knowing someone cared had been enough to get her through the roughest parts following the war.  
  
Slipping into the scented water once the bath was full, her mind continued on it's journey over the last few months. When care and concern hadn't been enough, again it had been Shacklebolt who got through to her with his blunt appraisal. _It won't bring him back,_ he'd said. And, he'd been right. Finally realizing that had been the first step to healing.  
  
The second had been realizing she could be attracted to another man.  
  
\---  
  
In the shower, Kingsley set the water up as hot as he could stand it, then a little hotter. Even more than a cold shower, what he needed was relief, relief he sought in fantasy more and more of late. As the scalding water sluiced over his body, he imagined it was not the water, but the heat of another, smaller, body nestled alongside his in the small space which set fire to his skin and caused heat to pool low and heavy in his groin.  
  
To his mind's eye, the hands smoothing soap over his chest were small and lily-white, a stark contrast to his own dark flesh that aroused him more than he would have thought possible. That same fair complexion spread out beneath his own hands while they traveled over the slick expanse of his lover's bare back, then slipped around to cup firm, rounded breasts as he pressed her back against the shower wall.  
  
\---  
  
It had snuck upon her gradually, a shiver as he reached out to grasp her shoulder in comfort, a hitch in her breathing at the sound of that darn name, BonBon, rolling sensually off his tongue in that deep, rumbling voice seemingly made for making a woman think of silk sheets and hot summer nights.  
  
Embarrassing, was what it was. Moving on was one thing. Fantasizing about her supervisor and friend was another entirely.  
  
None of which seemed to prevent Kingsley Shacklebolt from starring in the daydreams her newly reawakening sex drive presented her with. She couldn't help it if the thought of his large, dark hands holding her small, fair-skinned breasts turned her insides to molten heat. Or, if the thought of his goodnights at the office ending with the two of them in this tub brought a soft moan to her lips, as she teased her hardening nipples with her own hands in just the way she imagined he would.  
  
\---  
  
Using a generous amount of soap to ease the motion, Kingsley grasped his own hard length, his hand gliding slowly up and down as he imagined a warm, hot mouth surrounding him instead.  
  
He could almost see it without closing his eyes, waves of strawberry pink hair cascading down her back as she took him into her mouth. He was too big for her to take him all in. She had to use one pale hand to work the base of his shaft. But, gods she'd look glorious, peeking up at him from beneath her pink fringe. She was touching herself as she licked and sucked him, her two fingers thrusting in time with her mouth, slow at first, so maidenly slow and teasing. Then growing faster as she lost herself to the pleasure, each moan and whimper from her throat vibrating along his entire length and causing him to groan with need.  
  
His own movements sped up, his hand moving faster with the pace of his vision, squeezing rhythmically as he imagined hers would. He could see her, knees spread wide, allowing him to see the pleasure she enjoyed by giving pleasure to him; his hand tangled in those vibrant locks as her soft, full lips stretched around his tip, toying with it, licking delicately as a child with a lollipop before sucking him in again.  
  
Over and over…  
  
\---  
  
 _Working late again,_ he'd ask, a wicked smirk on his face as his fingers played with her, circling and teasing the tiny nub which was the center of her pleasure -- much as she, herself was doing now as she imagined the erotic picture they made, his tall, dark form contrasted beautifully by her own pale, slim legs straddling his hips, urging him on, begging for more than those teasing fingers.  
  
 _Yes!_ she gasped aloud, raking her nails down his back and leaving faint pink trails along the smooth, wet skin as he suddenly thrust two fingers fully inside her. His mouth closed hotly upon her breast, teeth worrying gentle at the diamond-hard nub they found there, and the only thing keeping her head above water was his solid body holding her up even as he took her apart piece by tiny piece. She squirmed as he continued to tease her with promises of what was to come, finally begging for what she wanted, what she _needed_ to ease this ache of longing.  
  
The fingers she slipped inside herself were nothing compared to what she imagined being filled by him would feel like. So hard and thick, she imagined he would fill her in a way she'd nearly forgotten. He'd go slowly at first, easing into her with one languid thrust until he was seated to the hilt before drawing out just as slowly. Each deep, hard thrust sending her that much closer to the edge, a twist of his hips putting pressure right where she needed it, harder and faster until water sloshed unnoticed over the edge of the bath from the force of their joining. Large, warm hands would grip her waist as he ground his pelvic bone against her with each thrust.  
  
Hard and fast and deep, his breath panting in her ears as the tension coiled hotter and tighter inside them…  
  
\---  
  
The sight of Tonks on her knees, even in his mind, was too much. One last powerful thrust into his hand was all it took to bring him shuddering to climax and Kingsley leaned heavily against the wall as his release pulsed through him.  
  
\---  
  
In her imagination, he came first, throbbing and pulsing hotly inside her, the image so erotic it brought her to her own peak in reality. Wave after wave of long-forgotten pleasure rocked through her before she lost her tenuous grip on the edge of the tub and slipped under the water to emerge sputtering.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Working late, again?"  
  
"Oww!" This time, when the deep voice, which should have been expected by now, spoke from her doorway, it wasn't wholly surprise which caused Tonks to jump a metre into the air, banging her head sharply on the underside of her desk where she'd been down on her hands and knees looking for the earring she'd dropped. Not was the embarrassment staining her cheeks the same color pink as the short-braid draped over her should strictly a result of banging her head.  
  
After all, she was clumsy every day. It wasn't every day that she'd spent the night before indulging in a bit of self-pleasure while imagining what it would be like to have sex with the man who had mentored her.  
  
"Alright there, BonBon?" Gods, that voice alone was enough turn her knees to water. Good thing she was already sitting down.  
  
Although, the warmth radiating from his body as he _didn't_ move away after helping her up was doing nothing to cool the heat in her face.  
  
"Yeah, thanks."  
  
Silence stretched out between them as they stood there, his hands still resting lightly at her waist, hers on his arms. A million things sprang to mind and were cast aside just as quickly, deemed too embarrassing to say out loud now that she was standing face to face with him.  
  
Kingsley looked down into the heart-shaped face of the woman who haunted his dreams and swallowed hard. Everything he was thinking, everything he wanted was so wrong. There was nothing specifically _against_ it, at least officially, from a Ministry standpoint. But, it went against every code of honor he'd been raised with.  
  
Only he couldn't help wanting it, wanting her.  
  
Now, here she was, practically in his arms, and he defied any man to turn away from a chance like this.  
  
"If you're not working tonight, I wonder if I might interest you in some dinner."  
  
Tonks' breath caught in her throat as his eyes darkened with what she could only imagine was desire. But, of course, she was imagining it. While she might have decided to try her wings again, might even indulge in some harmless fantasies in the bath, there was no way Kingsley would ever consider it.  
  
"Sure, where did you have in mind? Leaky Cauldron?" Just because she was feeling decidedly weak in the knees didn't mean they couldn't still share a casual dinner between friends, after all.  
  
"Actually, I was thinking I might cook."  
  
And this was the part where the fantasy ended, he thought, steeling himself for her inevitable refusal once she realized the full meaning behind his words. He could already see her thinking about it, her full lower lip trapped between her teeth as she worried it, probably trying to find the words to let him down easily.  
  
He was already preparing his apologies, when her face broke into a grin, and he stared dumbly at her for a moment before he realized what she was saying and he grinned down at her in response.  
  
"Well, that's probably a good idea. I'm sure it would be difficult to top if I were to set your kitchen on fire for the first date."

**Author's Note:**

> These two characters turned out to be a lot more difficult than I'd initially thought and turned into an enjoyable challenge for me to write. I hope I've done them justice and that you'll forgive the method used to move Remus out of the picture. I'm just too much of a canon-whore to ignore that relationship completely, I guess.


End file.
